It’s hot outside

Whilst I can’t be where I would like to be, it’s not that bad inside thanks to the air conditioning.

And I’m studying up on how far I would need to wind down the air conditioner in order for it to snow inside the house.

A foolish notion maybe, but oddly enough living in a country where most of the inhabitants rarely see snow, if at all, Hollywood has a lot to answer for for my expectations of a white Christmas.

But, venturing outside for no reason in particular, the heat hits you as bad as if you walked into a brick wall.

It reminds me of the first time we visitied Singapore, the plane arrived around midnight, and we were heading to an overnioght hotel before picking up the next leg into London.

Yes, another trip to the cold side of the world.

We thought, late at night, how hot could it be. We soon found out. The short walk from the terminal to the waiting limousine was like wading through head high water.

What does all this waffle have to do with anything?

Nothing.

Just wallowing in nostalgia.

I was hoping with out impeccable COVID record, and that of places like New Zealand and Singapore, we might get to travel again, but no. Three stupid people who should be executed in public by firing squad, have managed to turn the tide and cases are rapidly escalating while authorities hover between panic and utter panic.

You know, Christmas, reunions from other states, borders slamming shut, and mass exodus before that.

Add to the mix the barefaced liars who’ll do and say anything to see their family, and we’ll be in the midst of a second, third, who knows what wave.

Oh, well. We’re about 60th in line to get the vaccine, like some time in April 2026 knowing how our government works, so what may have been a time of good cheer will now be a time of great anxiety.

Again.

At least I’ll have more time at home to finish that NaNoWriMo project I didn’t get finished in November. I’ve been working on it, with no similar gusto, but the word count exceeds 100,000 and I have 25 odd chapters to go. Maybe, after six years I might just get it finished before my grand daughter, for whom it was written, reaches her 18th birthday.

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